


Perfect Game.

by Mystrothedefender



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Recovery, Semi-Public Sex, bowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrothedefender/pseuds/Mystrothedefender
Summary: It's Johns first time out of Arkham since being re-admitted 1 year 8 months and 8 days ago. Supervised, in a public place. Bruce and John are having fun, but they want some time alone to discuss their relationship.
Relationships: John Doe/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Perfect Game.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fractualized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractualized/gifts).



There was a program for patients at Arkham, ones who were on good behaviour and within 12 months of their expected release date. An assorted group of patients would be temporarily freed from Arkham’s walls, allowed to roam the world and adjust to being around other people.

Supervised, of course, the small group would be taken to a museum, a cinema, a park… wherever.

They were allowed to wear their own clothes, eat outside food, spend time with their family and friends in a place where the tables weren’t all bolted to the floor.

Bruce often heard John’s complaints about how the group would walk right past the rec room on their way out, where everyone could see. He'd often get angry when the subject came up, or more when he brought it up. He insisted they were rubbing it in his face, bragging about the fact that they weren’t stuck in there, while he was…

John finally hit that mark ‘12 months to expected release’.  _ Finally _ , after what felt like forever. He’d become quite emotional when he told Bruce he'd been given the date of his first outing, and he’d seemed anxious that he didn’t have anything appropriate to wear.

So, Bruce, being the good friend that he was, took John’s measurements and spent an entire day finding a selection of perfect outfits for his first time out of Arkham in… 1 year 8 months 8 days.

Bruce had a vision in his mind. John had spoken at length about his taste in fashion. Although he’d also expressed worry about feeling self-conscious his first time. So Bruce decided he was going to find a watered down version of what John liked.

He picked out 2 packs of button up shirts. One pack was a forest green, the other a plum purple. And a couple of dark pairs of skinny jeans. A dark grey waistcoat, a light grey waistcoat. And… a tie? No, a tie was too much. And a belt, black leather with silver studs. Finally a pack of bamboo fibre cubist-style socks. Bruce had decided not to get shoes, he’d forgotten to ask for John’s size.

It felt like something John would wear but understated enough to not make him anxious.

Bruce also picked out one of those make-up kits, one of the overpriced ones that those guys on youtube always promoted. John deserved to feel handsome on his first night out. He caught himself thinking about how sexy John was going to look, but forced himself to stop.

They didn’t have that kind of relationship.

He delivered the clothing the morning of John’s first outing. Although there was at least 6 hours before they left John still chastised him for cutting it too close, then he gave Bruce a soft quick peck on the cheek (as friends do, Bruce told himself) and took the bag from him happily.

“I’ll see you at 7?” John smiled, swaying on his feet.

Bruce nodded. Part of him wanted to see John’s reaction to his new clothing (maybe John would kiss him in thanks again… like friends do) but part of him wanted to wait and not see him until he was fully made up. Bruce could barely imagine how handsome he’d look, his heart fluttered at the thought... “I’m meeting you there, ok?” Bruce reminded him.

John gave a hard nod in return. “I’ll see you at the bowling alley at 7,” he reiterated the information he’d already given Bruce at least 9 times. He seemed so excited. Bruce had never imagined someone could be so excited at the thought of going bowling.

Bruce didn’t have to worry so much about what he was going to wear, he chose clothes that complimented the ones he’d gotten for John. Similar simple style shirt and pants, but in charcoal black and fog grey.

He got to the bowling alley a little earlier than he was meant to, he wanted to be there before John to avoid John worrying that Bruce had gone to the wrong place or gotten into an accident or something.

But, as he pulled up to the building, he saw that Arkham’s minibus was already there, he felt his chest swell slightly at the sight of it, a strain coming to his throat at the thought that John was in there already, wondering where Bruce was.

He parked up quickly and almost jogged inside. Eyes searching for John through the windows as he approached.

As he entered the building he saw him.

He’d picked the purple shirt and the black skinny jeans, and, sadly, decided not to wear either of the waistcoats. He’d tucked the slightly-too-big shirt into his pants so it poofed out slightly at his waist, matching the puff of the sleeves. His face was done up immaculately, bright lipstick, dark eyes. Bruce couldn’t help thinking that he looked like a modern-day bard. Perhaps, Bruce thought, he should buy him a lute, or an electric guitar… not that John would ever bother learning to play.

Bruce forced his thoughts back on track as he approached. “Good evening,” Bruce said politely, not sure if John would hear him over the din of pins falling and music which was in the top 40 a decade ago.

John turned to say hello but a chaperone popped up between them.

“Mr Wayne,” the short lady said cheerily.

Bruce had met her a few times before, during visits at Arkham. What was her name? Cherie?

“So glad you could make it!” she said habitually, “Please sign the sheet before socialising with the patients.”

John rolled his eyes, tipping his head back. “Come on,  _ Debora _ …” he frowned at her, “He can’t even say ‘hello’ to me without signing the damn sheet?”

Debora? Bruce could have been sure her name was Cherie?

The lady shook her head, “You know the rules, John.”

John lifted his hand, moving it in a puppet talking motion. He waited silently with crossed arms as Bruce walked to the table and signed his name.

Once Bruce straightened up John walked up to him, arms open, smiling softly and sweetly. “Buddy! You made it,” he cooed.

Bruce lifted a hand and extended his pinky finger, “I said I’d be here.”

John tittered, hooking his own pinky finger around Bruce’s and giving it a gentle shake, before cupping his fingers and pulling his hand to kiss his knuckles (as friends do, Bruce told himself).

“I knew you’d come,” John smiled, his tone spilling over with excitement.

“I’d never miss this,” Bruce assured him. “Let’s get our shoes, and I’ll teach you to bowl.” He began to guide John towards the counter.

“Are you sure you have the credentials to teach me? Have you ever bowled before?” John smirked, leaning against the varnished wood counter as they reached it.

“Not once,” Bruce smiled back.

“It’ll be the blind leading the blind, then!” John chuckled, looking at the display of bowling shoes. “These are going to clash with my outfit.”

“They clash with every outfit.”

John swayed on his feet slightly, “Is that my first bowling lesson?” He looked at the man behind the counter. “Size 8, please.”

The man stuttered, “We’re out of 8s, we have 10s?”

John pouted, “10s are fine, I’ll just put up with looking like a  _ clown _ .”

Bruce frowned, “You’re a size 8?” he glanced down at John’s feet. “I didn’t realise your feet were so small.”

“I prefer the term ‘dainty’,” John jibed, smiling at Bruce and winking at him.

Bruce let out a weak chuckle. He looked at the man behind the counter, “11 for me, please.”

John raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Bruce’s feet. “Oh…” he smirked, “You know what they say about big feet, eh?”

Bruce took his shoes, “John,” he said, a soft tone of warning to his voice, “Don’t make jokes like that.”

“Why?” John grinned, “Are you afraid I’ll be disappointed?”

“What?” Bruce scoffed.

John’s grin widened, “Oh, so, I won’t be..?” he nodded slowly, looking Bruce up and down, “Good to know.”

Bruce felt the breath leave him at John’s comment. He righted himself as they walked to the pair of lanes that belonged to their group. It was a joke, that was all. He knew John wasn’t really interested in him like that.

John often made off colour jokes like that. Bruce knew it was just because he had trouble with social boundaries, but that didn’t stop him from being taken off guard. Especially with how he felt about John. Not that he had ever told John how he felt.

“Put me in as John,” John instructed the chaperone (whatever her name was), “And put him in as ‘hot stuff’,” he said, gesturing to Bruce.

“That won’t fit,” the chaperone smirked.

John hummed softly, walking up to Bruce, “How about…” he circled Bruce, looking him up and down in a way that would make Bruce uncomfortable if it were anyone other than John. “Sexy.”

Bruce let out a laugh, feeling his face flush a little.

“No,” the chaperone stated, her voice flat. “Calm down you two, we’re in public.” She gestured to the other patients with them, more people whose names Bruce didn’t know.

Bruce felt a soft frown come to his face. He hadn’t been aware there was anything wrong with them joking with each other.

John leaned in close to Bruce, almost pressing his mouth against Bruce’s ear as he whispered into it. “Like we ever have the opportunity to be in private,” he purred, his hand moving to Bruce’s hip as he spoke. Bruce felt himself tense as John practically pressed himself against him.

“John, sit down,” the chaperone said sternly.

John flicked round where he stood, sticking his tongue out at her.

“Just because there are no orderlies or guards or cameras around to stop you doesn’t mean you can suddenly start acting like horny teens,” the chaperone stated. “You signed the sheet, John, you know the conditions.”

“Fine.” John pouted, crossing his arms and moving to sit down on one of the orange plastic seats, his eyes averted.

Bruce felt his cheeks glow up with embarrassment and realisation. He sat down opposite John, putting on his shoes and studying his annoyance.

So they weren’t just jokes..?

Of course they weren’t just jokes.

Why had Bruce let himself believe they were just jokes?

Why had he just let himself pine…

He should have realised sooner.

He let out a weak laugh, shaking his head.

John’s eyes lifted to meet his, a smile coming to his face at the sound of Bruce’s laughter. The pout on his face softening.

“Don’t worry about it, John,” Bruce assured him.

“You’re up next, John,” the chaperone said, cheerily again, as if she hadn’t just been telling John off.

John let out a weak huff and got to his feet, walking to the lane and picking up a bowling ball, looking down at it curiously and then looking over at the pins. He aimed and threw the ball, standing awkwardly as the ball sped down the lane and hit the pins.

‘Strike!’ the speakers over them blared, cutting the music for a moment.

John turned, mouth agape, eyes wide. He stuck his tongue out at the chaperone, walking over to Bruce.

“I got a strike!” he said, whisper-yelling. He glanced back at the pins, “That’s good, right?”

Bruce nodded, “That’s the best.”

“And Bruce,” the chaperone called.

Bruce got to his feet, walking to the lane.

He bowled poorly, on purpose.

The group of people behind him let out an ‘aw’.

John laughed deliberately, coming up behind Bruce. “Maybe  _ you’re  _ the one who needs lessons!” he taunted.

Bruce shrugged, “I guess I do.”

John smirked, coming up close behind Bruce, helping him position himself and guide the ball, pressing himself against him for a moment.

‘Strike!’ the pre-recorded announcer voice interrupted the music again.

“Look at that,” Bruce said, smiling, feigning ignorance. “You’re a very good teacher.”

John let out a weak giggle. “I guess I am,” he shrugged.

“Tony, your turn,” the chaperone said, a false cheer to her voice. Her way of telling Bruce and John to sit down.

John glanced down at her, barely holding back a glare. “I’m going to get some food,” he smiled. “Want anything, Bruce?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Bruce said. “I’ll have to look at the menu.”

The chaperone raised an eyebrow at them. “We’ve got a tab open, tell them to put it on ‘AAOC’.”

“Thankyou, Cherie, darling,” John cooed sweetly. Turning to walk towards the counter, Bruce following him.

So Bruce wasn’t wrong. Her name was Cherie.

After a second Bruce realised they were being followed.

There was another woman behind them, wearing the same uniform as Cherie.

Bruce felt a frown come to his face.

“They’re following us,” Bruce said, leaning forward so John could hear him.

John glanced back, letting out a growl at the sight of him. “Of fucking course,” he growled, “We won’t get a moment alone.”

“We could wait,” Bruce offered, his voice soft, not wanting John to get upset and overreact.

John huffed, tipping his head back. “I don’t  _ want  _ to wait anymore, Bruce. I’ve been waiting for like a whole year. I think about it every night.”

“Every night?” Bruce repeated, his face turning hot again.

John let a soft smile come to his face, “Oh yeah.”

Bruce cleared his throat, tension filling his gut, the thought of John thinking of him every night…

John glanced back as they reached the line for food. “I don’t really know this lady, she probably won’t assume we’re...  _ y’know _ .”

He turned to the lady who had just come up behind them, grinning at her. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Could you just order me some uh, chilli fries?” he cooed, in the most innocent tone he could muster.

“Me too, please,” Bruce smiled, following John's cues.

“Oh, and a hotdog!" John added quickly, "I’ll just be like, 5 minutes.”

“Ok,” the lady shrugged. She looked on dutifully as they walked to the bathroom, watching as they entered it.

Bruce was careful not to get too close to John until they were behind the door.

The bathroom had stalls and urinals against one wall, and a long wooden varnished sink counter against the other, mirrors above each sink.

The music sounded twice as loud here as in the rest of the building, Bruce guessed it was actually the same volume, but the bathroom was smaller and had much lower ceilings.

John’s eyes were stuck on Bruce as he began to unbutton his shirt, revealing pale white skin underneath.

Bruce reached back to lock the door, thankful that it had a lock and that they wouldn’t need to confine themselves to one of the cramped stalls.

He had hoped that his first time with John, if there were to be a first time, would be in his bed at home, where they could take their time and get to know each other in a sexual sense. Not in a public bathroom where they couldn’t even hear each other.

A few seconds of silence interrupted the music. 

They sat in the tension that bred there.

“I don’t want you to regret this,” Bruce blurted into the silence.

John smiled and shook his head, a laugh leaving him like he thought what Bruce had said was ridiculous. The awkwardness between them dispelling with his laugh. “I love you,” he said emphatically.

The first few notes of the next song began to blare down on them. Bruce recognised it immediately as Lady Gaga’s ‘bad romance’.

“I love you too, John,” Bruce said back, his words drowned by the music.

John leant in to kiss him, full on the mouth, his hand cupping Bruce’s face before slipping to the back of his head, tugging gently at his hair.

They kissed for a moment, sinking into it, open mouthed and moaning. Bruce felt himself melt. He’d wanted this for… 1 year 9 months 2 days. John pulled away, Bruce tried to follow him, it didn’t feel enough yet.

“I’ve got a condom,” John grinned, Bruce had to strain to hear him over the chorus. He blushed as he pulled a condom out of his pocket.

Bruce felt his cheeks grow hot again. John had pre-planned this. Although it was a good thing he had, Bruce wouldn’t have been comfortable doing it without one.

John let out a weak laugh, shifting on his feet. “I-I don’t know… uh… I’ve never put one on someone else before.” He held his hand out, waving the condom for Bruce to take.

Bruce took it and opened it, unzipping his pants and exposing himself.

John bit his lip, letting out a groan at the sight of him. “Oh, buddy…” he leant in to kiss Bruce again, moving a hand to feel him. “I want this so much, Bruce.”

Bruce felt himself twitch as John touched him. “I want you,” he almost gasped, sliding the condom on, then moving his hand from himself to fumble with John’s belt. Bruce began to realise that perhaps skinny jeans weren’t the best thing to have bought him.

“I can tell,” John purred.

Bruce tugged down John’s tight jeans, his hard cock swinging free. He grasped him, stroking him slowly.

“Fuck me,” John instructed. He moved back, lifting himself up onto the sink countertop, pulling Bruce along with him.

Bruce’s brow furrowed as he realised what John was going for positioning wise. “It’d be easier if you-“

John shook his head, holding up a hand to cut him off. “I want to be able to look at you…”

John balanced himself on the sink, leaning against the wall behind him, moving awkwardly to take off one of his bowling shoes, tugging down his jeans past his ankle. Practically undressing himself. If anyone interrupted them it’d be a lot harder to correct themselves. It was a good thing they’d been able to lock that door.

Bruce ran his fingers over the condom, slicking himself with some of the excess lube. He kissed John deeply, nestling between John’s legs and moving his fingers to John’s hole, one pushing in slowly.

John let out a soft moan, his eyes fluttering. “Oh, Bruce…” he said weakly, leaning into Bruce’s movements as he added another finger. Moving a hand to the edge of the counter to hold himself steady.

“I wish we had more time,” Bruce heard himself say quietly, unsure if John heard him. “I wanna fuck you properly…”

John smiled. “Maybe next time?”

Bruce scoffed, pulling his fingers out slowly. He closed the gap between them and thrust his hips slightly, easing his tip against John’s hole, feeling him give to the intrusion.

John let out a groan, moving his free hand to himself, lifting his hips to urge Bruce deeper.

Bruce thrust forward, a groan leaving him as he felt himself sink into him.

John tipped his head back, knocking it against the wall, his eyes fixed on Bruce, he let out a low moan. “Oh, Bruce… Don’t hold back. We’ve only got a few minutes and I really want to come.”

Bruce nodded weakly, his mouth hanging open as he gently thrust in and out, letting John adjust to his length.

John looked so good beneath him. His mouth agape, feeble gasps leaving him that Bruce wished he could hear. His hand pumped himself, faster than Bruce thought would be comfortable. He guessed that it was the result of the anticipation, the build up, wanting it for so long with no real outlet. John was acting as if this one didn’t really count, it was just to rid himself of the frustration he felt. Bruce was fine with that, but for him the years’ worth of build up was part of the fun.

His thrusts quickly gained pace. John twitched and strained beneath him, his legs twitching, muscles showing in his neck, adam’s apple flexing as he moaned. God Bruce wished he could hear him.

He looked so good. Bruce had been fantasising about this for… 1 year 9 months 2 days. It looked better than he’d expected.

“I can feel you twitching,” John groaned, his eyes glazed. “Feels so good.”

Bruce smiled, biting his lip, he trailed his hand over John’s chest, down towards his groin. John took his hand from himself, thrusting his hips up, wordlessly inviting Bruce to touch him.

Bruce wrapped his hand around John’s dick, stroking him fast, pounding into him. “I want to make you come, John.”

John nodded weakly, letting out a moan that peaked over the music. “You’re gunna make me come,” he whined.

Bruce growled, leaning forward and placing his spare hand against the wall, looking down at John as he fucked him hard. He looked so beautiful. 

John strained himself, wrapping his legs tight around Bruce’s waist and lifting his head to try and kiss at Bruce.

Bruce kissed back hungrily, shudders rolling down his back with every moan that left John’s lips, spurring him to his edge.

“Come on, John,” Bruce growled into his mouth. “Come for me.”

John’s body tensed, letting out a whine and bucking his hips hard as he came, his hole squeezing Bruce’s cock softly as his cock twitched in his hand, come shooting from him and splashing onto them both.

“Fuck,” Bruce moaned, his voice shaking, he felt his legs weaken beneath him, his thrusts juddering to a stop, the tension in his gut releasing as he came.

John let out another soft groan, a wide smile spreading across his face. “You just came in my ass…” he said as if it wasn’t obvious, his voice breathy, his chest rising and falling slowly.

Bruce nodded, giving him another kiss.

The last few notes of ‘bad romance’ cut out above them, and that pre-recorded voice screamed out ‘Perfect game!’

John tipped his head back, his eyes closing as he let out a triumphant laugh. “Oh, Brucie, buddy,” he groaned in the moment of silence between songs. His legs relaxed, hanging off the sink counter. “That was so good… I really needed that.”

Bruce pulled out, slowly, looking down to watch himself. He let out a soft breath and took the condom off, walking to throw it in the bin by the door, stowing himself back in his pants and zipping up as he walked.

He looked over at John, observing his dishevelment for a moment. He looked so beautiful with his hair mussed like it was, his partially unbuttoned shirt hitched up to his belly button, puddles of come sitting on his skin. “You should get dressed,” Bruce suggested, “They’ll come looking for us soon.”

John nodded, hopping down from the counter and locating his bowling shoe, pulling his jeans up before putting the shoe on.

“Oh,” John mused to himself. “I got come on my shirt…” He lifted his shirt to his mouth and sucked at the few splashes of come that were beginning to saturate. After a second he pulled a face, shaking his head, “… I think some of that might have actually been liquid soap.”

Bruce chuckled, watching on as John fixed himself, tucking his shirt back into his pants.

“You missed a bit,” Bruce smirked, approaching John and taking his hand, licking a drop of come from his cuff.

John let out a laugh, pulling his hand away and leaning in to give Bruce a kiss. “I’m so glad we finally got to do that.”

Bruce kissed John back, and raised a hand to run his fingers through John’s hair, smoothing it out. “I am too.” He walked to the door, unlocking it and guiding John through. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen tonight.” He stumbled over himself, “Or-or… at all, really.”

John smiled, “I knew it. I knew you didn’t think I was serious.” He took Bruce’s hand as they walked back to the food counter. “I hope that proves how serious I am, about you, at least,” he chuckled pointedly.

Bruce nodded. “Yeah, you know... we could have just had a conversation..?”

John rolled his eyes and shook his head, “But that wouldn’t have been as fun. And I wouldn’t have gotten to see that look on your face! It was like all your dreams had just come true!”

Bruce squeezed John’s hand, smiling weakly, “They have.”

John looked him up and down, letting out another tittered laugh, “If you’re not careful I’ll have to take you back in there.”

The chaperone waiting for them at the food order looked up at them as they approached, a smile on her face, “That was a little longer than 5 minutes,” she observed.

“Not much longer,” John said defensively. “We were  _ talking _ about  _ our relationship _ .”

“Oh,” she said, perking up, “All good I hope.”

“It certainly… cleared some things up,” Bruce added, stiffly.

“Your food should just be a second,” the chaperone informed them.

Bruce smiled, letting out a soft grunt of affirmation, “Are you excited to eat regular food?” he asked John.

John nodded, grinning, “I’m so excited,” he cooed, squeezing Bruce’s hand again. “I haven’t had a  _ hotdog _ in ages.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t get a ‘hotdog’ in Arkham?”

John shrugged, “I mean… I  _ could _ . But they’re really bad.”

“They’re not that bad,” the chaperone remarked, obviously oblivious to the innuendo.

John laughed. “Linda,” he sang, “You don’t eat the same food I do.”

She frowned softly, “Oh I… didn’t realise the staff and the patient cafeterias served different food.”

John laughed again, shaking his head.

“You’ve been waiting to,” Bruce slowed as he talked, not entirely sure how to word it without arousing suspicion, “have a hotdog out here? Did you even try the hotdogs in Arkham?”

John shrugged, the smile on his face turning embarrassed. “I mean… I’ve tried them in the past. But after I got out and,” he snorted slightly, his tone turning sordid, “Saw the hotdogs available out in the world,” he leaned over, pressing himself against Bruce for a moment. “I decided the hotdogs in Arkham just didn’t cut it.”

“Your new  _ refined palate _ ,” Bruce joked. “I like that you waited until you could have a good hotdog. But… you know, I could have brought you one in.”

John shook his head, “Arkham wouldn’t have liked that,” he growled.

Bruce frowned, “But this is better? A quick bowling alley hotdog?”

John shrugged, shifting on his feet, awkward and embarrassed with himself. “I just couldn’t help it. I saw the opportunity and I just… saw it on the menu and couldn’t stop myself. Didn’t really  _ want  _ to stop myself, I guess.”

“You don’t have to eat the hotdog here if you don’t want,” the chaperone chirped. “I’m sure someone else from the group will want it?”

John shook his head, pouting judgingly, “No one is touching my bowling alley hotdog other than me.”

Bruce wasn’t sure if that was still innuendo or not.

“What about you, Bruce?” John asked, his eyes twitching to drag over Bruce’s body. His tone was a little apprehensive. “...Have you eaten any hotdogs lately?”

Bruce shook his head, “No. But I…” he cleared his throat, again not really sure how to say what he wanted, “I don’t really advertise the fact I like hotdogs.”

John nodded thoughtfully, “Ok. What about uh…” his eyes flit away, he was obviously having the same trouble wording himself as Bruce. “What would the other thing be? Burgers? No… uh… Kale salad?” he chuckled. “Have you eaten any kale salad since I got into Arkham?”

Bruce felt himself still and tense. “I…” he swallowed hard. “Despite what the tabloids say I haven’t had Kale salad in about… 1 year 10 months.”

John let out a soft laugh, “Really? Bruce Wayne skipping his leafy greens?”

A tray appeared in front of them, their food piled on it.

“I don’t miss it.” Bruce took a fry and popped it into his mouth. “I think we should enjoy a hotdog at every opportunity we can, John, now that we both know how we feel about them.”

John picked up their tray, licking his lips as he looked down at the food. “Oh, I plan to. I’m out of Arkham once every two weeks and I’m going to have hotdogs every time.”

“Every time?” Bruce smirked, beginning to guide John back to their group.

“Every time,” John purred.

“Won’t you get tired?”

John chuckled, “Never.”

Cherie glared up at them as they approached. “You took your time.”

John shrugged, placing the food down on one of the tables, sitting at the nearest seat, Bruce sat next to him. “Food took  _ ages _ .”

“Sure,” Cherie growled. “You two better behave yourselves, or I’ll have to write you up, John, and you won’t get to go out again.”

Bruce frowned, feeling his temper flare. “What is your problem, Cherie?” he asked, “John hasn’t done anything wrong, all he’s done is flirt with me.”

Cherie shut up and looked away tense.

“Please stop treating John like he’s done something wrong,” Bruce forced. He reached over to take John’s hand. John glanced at him and smiled, taking another fry and eating it, his eyes flicking from Bruce to Cherie. “If we want to flirt we can, if we want to hold hands we can. I don’t want him to feel self conscious or  _ ashamed  _ to act that way with me. We’re adults, Cherie, treat us like adults.”

“Sorry,” Cherie said, her voice flat. “I didn’t mean to treat him unfairly.” She looked at John, “It’s your turn.”

John began to get to his feet, turning to Bruce as he did, he cupped his hand around his mouth as if he were trying to hide his words, but he made no effort to be quiet. “She’s having marriage issues and doesn’t want anyone to be happy.”

“No, John,” Cherie growled, “I just want you to follow the rules.”

Bruce nodded, smirking, “You should follow the rules, John.”

John scoffed, giving Bruce a soft shove before moving to pick up his bowling ball.

Bruce watched as he bowled, getting a strike again.

The rest of the night passed quietly, with some flirting between John and Bruce. No one seemed to mind other than Cherie, the other chaperones didn’t seem to care that they, or anyone else in the group, were flirting or holding hands or  _ kissing _ , so Bruce found it hard to believe her ‘follow the rules’ excuse.

They held hands as they walked out of the building, and Bruce escorted John to Arkham’s minibus.

They stood awkwardly saying goodbye, surrounded by other patients doing the same.

“Tonight was really great,” John said quietly, an unusually subtle smile on his face. He lifted Bruce’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “A lovely first date.”

“First date?” Bruce repeated.

“Yeah,” John shrugged sheepishly, “That’s what this was, right?”

“This is the first first date I’ve had at a bowling alley.”

“Well, what would you have preferred?”

Bruce let out a soft breath, trying to pretend it wasn’t something he’d thought about. “I’ll pick you up, take you out to dinner, then we go for a walk through the park. And whatever happens  _ happens _ .”

“Well, we got that last part down,” John chuckled, swaying on his feet.

Bruce let out a nervous chuckle. “I suppose 1 out of 3 isn’t bad.”

“Maybe next time we can get 3 out of 3?” John purred. “I got my perfect first date, you deserve yours too.”

Cherie knocked on the window of the minibus. “John, come on.”

John let out a growl, swaying on his feet and glaring up at the bus. He lifted up and kissed Bruce on the cheek.

“I’ll see you Thursday,” Bruce cooed, reaching a hand out to graze John’s hip in an almost-hug.

“Thursday,” John echoed in confirmation.

He pulled away, and Bruce watched as John got into the minibus. They waved goodbye as the doors closed, and Bruce turned to walk back to his car.

Bruce made a mental note to make a complaint against Cherie and request that John be placed in a different group for their next outing.

Maybe they could be alone a little longer next time.

**Author's Note:**

> An idea we came up with on Discord, @fractualized has done her own version and I recommend you go and check it out!


End file.
